Business Lunch
by Blackjack Gabbiani
Summary: Running a Team requires ordinary things like meetings. But when Cyrus is involved, could even that be "ordinary"?


Cyrus read over the list once, twice, three times, but it did nothing to change the words before him. The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, and his dark eyes narrowed as he turned back to me. "This is all of it then?" he asked, voice low and raspy as though he was unaccustomed to speaking even though he talked all the time.

"Yes sir," I confirmed. "That's the entire menu."

He scoffed, glaring at our surroundings. The Seven Stars was maybe too opulent a place to bring him for a business meeting, but on the other hand, nothing was too good for my leader. Although I had to agree to foot the bill.

A moment more of stony silence before I added "Sir? If you don't feel like having anything, you--"

"Hunger is an unfortunate curse of the physical body. We require sustenance to sustain ourselves, yet by doing so, we continue along a cursed path." He paused and I wondered if he was finished, but he wasn't. "But to deny ourselves that need is to hasten to the grave. To accomplish anything in this life is to give ourselves over to the base needs of our bodies."

I waited until I was sure he was done. "So you're going to order something?"

"It appears it was the destiny of a cow to provide me with a six ounce steak."

That was the most normal thing I had heard him say all day. Which speaks volumes about him, and probably about me as well. "Six ounces is pretty small. If you're not that hungry, they have salads."

He snapped the menu closed with surprising force for such a simple action. "Such a thing consumes multiple entities. For so many lives to lend themselves to sustain a single person for merely a few hours when only one sacrifice is sufficient is needless waste. If you give your life to something when there is no reason to do so, you have lived in vain."

He fell silent as I gave the order to the waiter, who never took his eyes from Cyrus and who scurried off the second he was able to. "Sir, about this proposal," I began, bringing the papers to the tabletop.

But of course he wasn't finished. "If you die for the wrong thing, you will never be able to give yourself to any other cause. But then, that's not to say that you should never do so. One needs to be able to discern when such a cause comes along. That is what drives me to work so hard." His eyes glazed over and he fixated on the far wall, startling a waitress who thought he was staring at her. "Most people can accomplish far more en masse than they can as individuals...even if such a destiny has to be given to them by someone else."

I could have asked him what he meant by that, but we were there on business, after all. He seemed to be waiting for me, so I handed him the proposal and began to outline the points. The energy sources seemed to interest him, as did information from the Kanto region regarding the volcano that had recently destroyed a city. The raw power from the blast, I pointed out, could power all of Sinnoh for two years, and that we had a similar volcano on Battle Island to the northeast.

He smirked a little bit and he leaned back, pushed out from the table enough to reveal long legs crossed at the ankles "It was the folly of man that reduced that island to such a state. It would take divine retribution to return it to its original condition."

"You mean Heatran?" I'd never heard him speak of the beast before, so I was slightly confused.

"Such an undertaking must be performed by someone with the ability to reason. It cannot be mindless. But perhaps such a thing could serve as a testing ground. One cannot enter into such an endeavor without the proper planning, of course."

"O-of course, sir." Having no idea what he was going on about, I was about to show him the final paper when the waiter brought our dishes, hesitantly setting them on the table and rushing off without making eye contact. Damn, I hadn't even thought about what I'd ordered--I'd been thinking about noodles all day off and on and didn't consider what he'd told me earlier, and I hoped he wouldn't think any less of me for it. Hesitantly I looked over at him.

His head was down and he was scowling, and for a moment I wondered if he was all right. Then it hit me--while I'd ordered his steak without any side dishes (something the waiter seemed confused by but obeyed), it still came with a thin sauce.

"Sir, you can just scrape that off and--" The way his hand tightened around the knife concerned me. He wasn't a violent man by action, but by order he was ruthless.

"...my orders have been disregarded..."

I tensed up. I could make a dash for the door and he'd probably let me go, but with my knowledge of the Team's workings they'd be after me in no time.

"...but I suppose such a thing is to be expected with the world in its current state." He sighed deeply, as though steak sauce was the gravest situation facing the planet today. "Absolute obedience is a rarity, and unfortunately always has been, through deepest history and into the animal kingdom. However, if it permeated our behavior, there would be no leaders, only followers, and that is no way to create society. True in fact, there would be no higher powers, for those who possessed such things would neglect to use them properly. And if there were only leaders, things would no doubt be in a sorrier state than they are now. If only leaders existed, the world would have ceased to exist some time ago with no hope of rebirth, having been damned by those who purported to be able to command it."

I took a drink of my water, the ice having melted some time ago. I wasn't about to start eating before he did, and I knew he wasn't finished talking.

He brushed the sauce away into a puddle, dragging the knife across the lip of the plate to make sure none remained before cutting into his steak. "To truly command the world, one must have more than mere power. One must have the logic and foresight to do so." Finally he took a bite, swallowing the piece without time to taste it. "I believe the gods are far too removed from the living world to understand its plight. Such a task must be undertaken by one who has experienced the troubles of life rather than an eternity of disconnection from all but one's own powers."

"But in all the stories I've ever heard, sir," I reminded him, finally able to have some of those noodles that had been on my mind all day, "mortals can only ascend to godhood if the gods that already hold that title deem them worthy." Oh wow, they were so good that I had to force myself to focus on him.

"Stories are in most cases only that. It is foolish to assume that all are true. Most are without basis and ought to have been dismissed as falsehoods at their conceptions. Another skill to acquire is the ability to separate the chaff from the grain, so to speak." This bite he partially chewed. It was medium rare as he had neglected to specify and the waiter had been too distracted to think to ask, and a spot of red dashed on his front teeth. "I was under the impression that this was a business meeting," he reminded me grimly.

"Oh! Of course, of course!" I fumbled with the papers, pushing the bowl of delicious noodles out of the way with mild reluctance and snapping a stray piece of broccoli in my mouth before resuming work.

The rest of the lunch was as any other meeting, and after what had already happened, the normalcy was more disturbing than anything else. I was beginning to think if he was mad at me; for the sauce, for the noodles, for something in the project, for anything, and with a man like him it's incredibly hard to tell.

Finally I closed the notebook, quicker than I'd meant to; even though I was finished, the waiter was approaching. He started to take our plates without a word, but Cyrus grabbed his wrist with a snapped-out hand. The man went pale and nearly fainted. "I'll be taking the remainer of that with me," Cyrus ordered, voice hushed and calm as usual but with the underlying threat that accompanied it.

All that was left on the plate was the puddle of sauce, and the waiter looked quizzical for a moment, but nodded frantically once the grip tightened, then relaxed and withdrew. He ran off with the plates, nearly tripping over his expensive shoes.

I looked over at Cyrus, who appeared to have zoned out again, and wondered if he honestly intended on eating the sauce later, by itself accompanying nothing.

And suddenly everything made sense again. 


End file.
